


Modern Science and the Ancient World

by Clea2011



Category: Atlantis (UK TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 21:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2522387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clea2011/pseuds/Clea2011
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Pythagoras gets sick Jason realises just how little he learned about 21st century medicine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Modern Science and the Ancient World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deinonychus_1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deinonychus_1/gifts).



> Written for the lovely Deinonychus_1's birthday - see, I had a go at Atlantis for you!  
> Also fills my 'severe/life-threatening illness' square for hc bingo.  
> Thanks to Fififolle for the beta!

There were lots of things about Atlantis that made Jason wish he was back home.

One, and it was a big one, was the smell. Generally there was body odour in the city the level of which he’d never encountered in the sweatiest of summers back home. No showers, no bottles of Lynx to provide a reassuring all-over smell, no deodorants, nothing. And although his friends paid better attention to personal hygiene than most, if he was asked to sniff an armpit one more time he was going to run away screaming.

Another thing was the food. They had no regular income, there was no dole money to fall back on and the constant gnawing in his belly was sometimes quite painful.

Finally there was… well, it was Atlantis. A ticking time bomb. At some point a big wave was going to come along and swallow them all up. He was definitely hoping he’d found a way home by then. Or, if it wasn’t home, because apparently this was where he came from, then at least back to modern living. With showers.

But, on the other hand, it wasn’t so bad. Hercules could be trying, but he had a good heart, and Pythagoras was… well, he was Pythagoras. Jason watched him sitting at the table, puzzling over his triangles. Sometimes he felt like just pushing the famous theorem under his nose so that he could be done with his destiny and studying and then they could do something more fun. There were a lot more fun things that they could be doing than studying triangles.

Pythagoras gave a little cough. He’d done that a few times, Jason had noticed. Because, Jason was bored and didn’t have anything to do, so watching Pythagoras seemed like an excellent way to pass the time.

“Are you okay?”

Pythagoras frowned, and Jason realised he’d used one of _those_ words, the ones that made Hercules and Pythagoras look at him as if he were from another planet. Well, he supposed that perhaps in some ways he was.

“Is that one of your odd ways of asking how I am?” Pythagoras asked. “I think some day I’ll write them all down, so that I can keep track. You use that one a great deal. And I think perhaps I have a touch of fever, unless it has become overly warm in here.”

Atlantis was always warm. Jason had never been pale-skinned, and his tan had rapidly darkened since his arrival in the ever-sunny place. Pythagoras managed to retain an ivory (Jason wasn’t going to think of it as pasty, because it was Pythagoras) complexion, largely due to his tendency to spend long hours sitting indoors poring over those wretched triangles.

“No warmer than usual.” Jason got up and walked over to his friend. On closer inspection, Pythagoras was perspiring, a faint sheen of sweat visible on his skin. Jason placed his hand on Pythagoras’ forehead. “You’re burning up. Come on, bed.”

That wasn’t quite how he wanted to make that particular instruction, which in Jason’s mind would have come out for quite different reasons. He wasn’t sure yet about Pythagoras, he thought there was an interest, but he didn’t want to lose his best friend in this strange place just for a failed attempt at a tumble in the sheets. Though every day, as they grew closer, he wanted to risk it more.

Pythagoras, though, didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow. It was probably because it didn’t even occur to him that Jason might mean anything else… and while he was obviously sick he probably wasn’t thinking about anything energetic anyway. Jason was faintly disgusted with himself for even letting it cross his mind.

Pythagoras swayed slightly when he got to his feet, looked briefly startled then attempted a grin at Jason. “Hercules is going to think I’ve been at his ale!”

“As it was probably one of us that found the money for it, he can hardly complain. Come on.” Jason helped him towards the sleeping area and sat him down on the bed. “You need to rest. I’ll get some water.”

That was another thing he missed. Clean running water whenever you needed it. Water had to be drawn from a well, and Jason was never totally convinced that it was clean. He’d tried persuading the others to boil it, but Hercules had looked at him as if he were half-mad and swigged down most of the contents of the bucket they’d just drawn, just to make a point. Pythagoras had of course listened to him and considered the idea, but Jason knew even he wasn’t entirely convinced.

It was probably one of the reasons that he was ill now. Probably one of the reasons many people in Atlantis got sick. That, and the way food was prepared. Jason had never been a fussy eater, which was lucky because he’d probably have starved by now. Watching Hercules’ favourite pie-seller preparing his wares in the morning was not an experience Jason would ever repeat. Not if he wanted to retain the contents of his stomach.

Pythagoras was worse when Jason got back. He was lying down, shivering under the thin covers although his skin was hot to the touch. He wouldn’t drink very much of the water, and given the way he was sweating he was likely to dehydrate quite quickly.

There was no sign of Hercules.

Jason sat there for a couple of hours, watching his friend getting worse and not really knowing what to do. There was no local chemist to run out to, nowhere to pick up anything to ease the symptoms. Jason didn’t really know that many people, and most of those he knew because he’d had some kind of run-in with them. He could hardly go up to the palace and ask Ariadne for help. It wouldn’t do Pythagoras any good if he were intercepted and arrested.

Finally, just as it was getting dark, Hercules returned.

He wasn’t singing. That was a good sign, he might actually still be sober.

“Where have you been?” he demanded.

“Working!”

That would be a first. Probably he had been sitting in the tavern gambling, or wrestling to try and gain some money.

“Pythagoras is sick. He’s got a fever.”

Hercules immediately went over to look, and Jason couldn’t fault him on his genuine concern for his friend. There were few things that would move Hercules to selfless actions, but Pythagoras was right up there as one of them. Jason was almost touched by the way he sat beside the bed and talked gently to their friend.

“What do you do when people are ill here?”

Hercules shrugged. He got up and walked away, beckoning to Jason to follow. If Jason had been hoping for some miraculous revelation, he didn’t get it.

“We hope they get through. What can we do? We’re broke. Any medicine costs too much. The physician would probably bleed him, try to get the fever out. Maybe get some leeches. I could find some, that might help.”

“Leeches?”

Hercules nodded. “Big fat leeches. It’s what they use at the palace. Better than cutting your arm to drain the blood.”

It was barbaric. He’d travelled to an ancient, barbaric world. And he couldn’t say anything because even Hercules would think he was mad.

“We’re not bleeding him.”

“Well, what do you suggest? He’s burning up, we’ve got to do something!”

Jason thought about it. He wished he’d paid more attention at school. He could remember penicillin, and where that came from. There wasn’t going to be any convenient pharmacy nearby though. Still, it was worth a try. “Well… mould. We could try using mould!”

Hercules looked at him as if he’d grown two heads. “What?”

“Where I come from…”

Hercules had that look on his face that he always got when Jason started a sentence with those four words. It was as if he’d learned to be wary of them. Quite possibly he thought Jason was slightly addled. Still, Pythagoras was sick, his temperature was way too high and it wasn’t as if he was a strong, robust man. The local quack would just bleed him and make him weaker… No, it was worth being looked at like that by Hercules.

“I don’t know the details, I’m not a scientist. But I know there was a drug that was made from mould. The… white bit, I think. It kills the bac.. the bad blood.”

“Mould?”

It was stupid, of course. They had nothing suitable and Hercules had probably never seen any sort of mould in his life. Food never, ever lasted long enough in their house to even see the next day, let alone actually go off. And besides, there were probably all sorts of things that had to be done to mould before it was made into the life-saving drug. No, it was a stupid idea. Stupid.

Jason had never wished more that he had some way of getting home. Things had been so much easier then, an illness wouldn’t kill you.

“Well, I don’t know!” he snapped. “I haven’t got anything else. What do you usually do? And don’t say leeches again.”

Hercules shrugged. “We can sit with him. And hope. That’s all there is really.”

It was a pretty poor way to try to cure someone.

Jason sat with Pythagoras through the night, and Hercules relieved him in the early hours after Jason made him promise not to use leeches. But he was sure in the morning there were a couple of little marks on Pythagoras’ pale skin that hadn’t been there before.

It was hard to get Pythagoras to take any water, and after a while he was so dehydrated that he began to get delirious. Even when he was sick he was still prattling on about triangles. It made even less sense than usual.

“It’s the brain fever,” Hercules told Jason wisely. “This is the worst part. If he gets through this, he’ll start to recover.”

It was a brilliant piece of medical advice, and Jason bit back the desire to ask Hercules, with as much sarcasm as he could, why he’d not gone into medicine. Instead he helped raise Pythagoras’ head so that Hercules could attempt to give him some more water. Most of it just spilled out over his face and onto the bed, though the bed was already so soaked with sweat that it made little difference.

“Maybe mouldy fruit from the market?” Hercules suggested tentatively.

“I don’t think it was just regular mould,” Jason admitted. “I don’t know what it was. We can’t give him something that might just make him worse.” If he ever got home he was going to study every medical book he could find. Anything to make sure he never felt this helpless ever again. All that knowledge, right there at his fingertips for all those years and he’d never taken enough of it in. Who needed to, when you could look everything up on the internet?

“Seems a bit of a strange way to cure someone anyway,” Hercules sniffed. “At least bleeding them makes sense. Don’t feed _me_ any mould if I’m ill.”

There wasn’t a lot Jason could say to that. He went to fetch some fresh, cold water. At least they could try to cool Pythagoras down by mopping his brow. There wasn’t much else that they could do.

It went on for two days, and Jason thought they might have been the longest two days of his life. Even when he was supposed to be resting and Hercules was supposed to be taking over the care, Jason could hear Pythagoras muttering to himself. He’d stopped tossing and turning, but that probably wasn’t a good sign. He sounded weaker. Jason didn’t sleep, and far too soon he got up and joined Hercules at the bedside. They’d probably catch whatever it was, but it was far too late to worry about that, and neither of them were going to abandon their friend. Besides, Jason thought, they were both physically stronger than Pythagoras and could probably fight it off far more easily.

Eventually, Hercules wandered off to his own bed, muttering something about there being no point in both of them sitting up. He didn’t have the same trouble sleeping that Jason did, and soon the small house rumbled with the familiar sound of his snoring. There was something reassuring about it, and it did seem to calm Pythagoras a little. He had slipped into what at first appeared to be a more restful sleep, without the disjointed mumblings about his work that had been going on for what seemed like forever.

“Some people like to listen to whale song,” Jason sighed. “Trust you to find that noise more restful.”

Pythagoras turned his head, although he didn’t open his eyes, and murmured something that sounded like “Jason.”

“I’m here. I don’t snore like that.”

That prompted a small smile, and for the first time Jason started to allow himself to hope.

“Do you think you could take some water?”

Pythagoras opened his mouth and made a faint sound that might have been an affirmation. He was, Jason guessed, very dehydrated. The sooner they dealt with that, the sooner he would recover. No wonder so many people died of fever there if all the doctors were doing was bleeding them and dehydrating them further. Carefully, Jason lifted his friend’s head and helped him to take a few sips.

“Slowly, just a little.” Jason moved the cup away before Pythagoras could take too much too fast. His medical knowledge might be sparse but at least he knew better than to let him do that. “Have more in a minute. Let that go down.”

Pythagoras looked as if he were exhausted just by the small action, but he still looked towards the cup hopefully. “My mouth feels so dry.”

“I’ll empty the well for you if you like, but you’re only having small sips for now.” He almost added ‘Trust me, I’m a doctor,’ but Pythagoras wouldn’t understand and it would only raise awkward questions. “You scared us.”

Pythagoras gave him a faint, tired smile. “I remember something about mould. And bleeding. Have the leeches gone?” He gave a little cough. “I hate it when the doctors use leeches.”

Jason was going to kill Hercules. “There aren’t any leeches. Or, if there are, they’ll be feeding on our friend in there. More water?”

Pythagoras nodded and Jason helped him to sit up a little. If it meant he needed to sit on the bed and have Pythagoras lean against him, and if it meant he needed to keep a secure arm around him then that was so much the better. This time Pythagoras took the cup and wouldn’t let it go. There wasn’t that much water in it so Jason just let him. He’d refill it from the jug later.

“Better?”

“A bit.” Pythagoras leaned into him a little more. “You’re warm.”

“Not as warm as you’ve been. You were like a furnace during the worst of it. You scared us.”

There was a thunderous, rumbling snore from the next room as if to confirm it.

“See, Hercules was scared too!”

Pythagoras laughed, which turned into a cough and Jason pulled away for a moment to get him more water.

“Here.”

“Thank you.” He took a sip, then handed the cup back, leaning back and closing his eyes. “So tired.”

“I’ll let you rest,” Jason started to pull away, meaning to help Pythagoras lie back down.

“Stay. You’re warm.”

He’d said that before. Jason gazed at his friend’s earnest blue eyes, not sure if he was imagining what he thought he could see in them, or if it was just because he wanted to see it there. And then again, Pythagoras was still sick, it could be confusion from that. It didn’t necessarily mean anything.

Still, he shuffled closer until they were both lying on the bed, and pulled Pythagoras close. It was just for warmth. Just for comfort that Pythagoras needed because he was still ill, still weakened from the fever. Just for Jason’s own reassurance that his friend was still breathing. It didn’t mean anything.

It did mean something, and Jason knew that they would have to talk about it when Pythagoras was recovered. He felt more confident about both those things than he ever had before. The future looked brighter.

But Pythagoras fell into a deep, healing sleep very quickly in Jason’s arms, his head resting on Jason’s shoulder, his breathing growing deeper, slower. Finally, comforted by the reassuring sound after days of worry, Jason followed him into sleep, hopeful for all their tomorrows.

 

 

 

 


End file.
